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lirik lagu blame it on the dj – e-40

[intro: c-ballin]
bla-bla-blame it on the dj
bla-blame it on the dj
bla-bla-blame it on the dj
she wanna drop dat, den run it back (ru-run it back)
and you can blame it on the dj
bla-bla-blame it on the dj

[verse 1: e-40]
i’m on like the most requested song
in his eyes, his b-tch can do no wrong
in her eyes, look like she wanna jump my bone
give me dome, blow me like a saxophone
when i pop my p’s and spit my ism and manipulatin’
i tell her what she wanna hear and make her feel great
that’s mackology, make her feel guilty, not me
when i’m wrong, i use reverse psychology
when i’m mackin’ and stackin’, mobbin’ and mashin’, boostin’ up my status
from a little young adolescent to a boss savage
with big dreams and high hopes to live rich and lavish
survival sk!lls, mannish, hard-headed, hustlin’ tactics
if it ain’t no bread involved, then i can’t be involved
unless you’re my relative or my potna, dawg
i ain’t wrapped too tight but my raps be tight like stingy people
ain’t a ratchet type i’m a raspy type like stingy p
dj, put the record to the needle, ooouh!

[chorus: c-ballin & e-40]
the club goin’ crazy, everybody drunk
and you can blame it on the dj
(bla-blame it on the dj)
you can blame it on the dj
(bla-bla-blame it on the dj)
she wanna drop that (drop that), and run it back (run it back)
and you can blame it on the dj (on the dj)
(bla-bla-blame it on the dj) (on the dj, ooouh!)

[verse 2: e-40]
so og but yet so youthful
they say, “between me and you, 40 low-key go
i remember when the n-gga used to push blow
now he on the charts and in the record store”
puttin on my chain and pendant, poppin’ my collar like a boss
i’m h-lla long winded, i’ll talk your ear off
when it comes to spittin’ game, i’m a pro
don’t check me, my n-gga, check yo’ ho
i’m about this paper, this playa sharp like a razor, won’t save her
you wanna wife her and date her and cape her like a crusader
every time you pay her she pay me, you buy her a louboutin
i f-cked her in my jeep, in the backseat of my rubicon
p-ssy was da bomb! like this bubba kush
brazilian wax, not no barbara bush
smokin’ and drinkin’ and pervin’ and swervin’, that’s what i specialize in
i like ’em dark but i prefer light skin, biatch!

[verse 3: e-40]
indoor trees and tobacco leaves
grind the weed down, no stems, no seeds
everywhere i go you can smell the aroma
i got some lemon squeeze and a case of corona
i’m mannish, even when i’m at work
i go to church smellin’ like purp (stop lyin’!)
you’re right, i just needed somethin’ to rhyme with that line
it’s ugly out here, mayne, this the sign of the times
i be knockin’ that 40 water, his beats be it
i f-ck with my n-gga, he say the randomest sh-t
i grew up on that n-gga, he raised me and my clique
taught us how to hustle and cook up a brick
how to knock a chick without liftin’ a finger
use my mouthpiece, no misdemeanor
have money, have heart, can’t be no marshmallow
she came in the thang with you but left with me, my fella
biatch!

- e 40

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